Asking the way in Japan, and understanding what comes back

By the Wabi-Sabi Japanese team · Last updated: July 28, 2026

Asking where something is turns out to be the easy half. One sentence, a pointed finger, done. The hard half arrives two seconds later, when a helpful stranger turns to face the right way and delivers forty fluent words about a traffic light and something on the second floor. You nod. You say hai. You walk off in a direction chosen at random.

So this page is weighted towards the reply. There are phrases for opening the conversation, but most of the space goes to what comes back: the nine words that carry the meaning in any set of directions, and the station signs that decide which side of the tracks you surface on.

The rest of the cluster is what nobody warns you about. The koban on the corner is a staffed police box that exists partly to point lost people at their hotels. Lost property genuinely comes back here, if you report it properly. And sooner or later a stranger will hold out their phone, and you will be the one taking the photo.

How do I stop a stranger in Japan and ask for directions?

Pick someone standing still. People walking somewhere in Japan are walking there with intent, and stopping them mid-stride gets you a polite deflection. Shop staff on a quiet till, a station attendant by the gates, someone waiting for a bus: all of them will give you their full attention, and shop staff know their own block building by building.

Open with sumimasen, say where you want to be, then show the screen. Do not read the address out. Japanese addresses are built from numbered blocks rather than named streets, so a spoken address is useless to both of you, while a dropped pin is instantly readable.

What will they say back, and how do I follow it?

Directions in Japanese are built from a small, repeating set of words. Learn these nine and you can rebuild most answers from the fragments you catch: massugu (straight on), migi (right), hidari (left), kado (corner), shingou (traffic light), tsukiatari (the dead end where the road stops and you must turn), hantaigawa (the opposite side), tonari (next door to), and mae (in front of). Counted things arrive as futatsume, mittsume — the second one, the third one.

The most useful habit is repeating the key word back with ne on the end. Migi desu ne. Futatsume desu ne. It confirms what you heard and gives the other person a clean chance to correct you before you walk three hundred metres the wrong way. Silence and a confident nod is the response that causes problems.

Why does it matter which exit I use at a Japanese station?

Because a large station is several stations glued together, and the wrong exit can leave you a fifteen-minute walk and one uncrossable railway line from where you meant to be. Big stations label exits by compass point: 東口 higashiguchi (east), 西口 nishiguchi (west), 南口 minamiguchi (south), 北口 kitaguchi (north), plus 中央口 chuuouguchi in the middle. Subway exits are labelled differently again: in Tokyo they carry a letter and a number, A3 or B7, while other cities number them plainly, 5番出口 and so on. Either way, that label is the thing your map app is quoting at you, and it is worth reading it off the screen before you leave the platform.

Two more signs earn their keep underground. 改札 (kaisatsu) is the ticket gate, and once through it you cannot wander back without paying again. 出口 (deguchi) is the way out to the street. Staff beside the gates are the fastest help in Japan.

What is a koban, and can a tourist just walk in?

Yes, and it is one of the genuinely lovely pieces of Japanese infrastructure. A koban (交番) is a neighbourhood police box: one room on a corner, a red lamp over the door, an officer or two inside. Knowing the surrounding streets in forensic detail is part of the job, and they keep large paper maps for exactly this. Walking in because you cannot find your guesthouse is normal, not an imposition.

Have the address on screen before you go in. The officer will find the building, mark the route, and often walk you to the corner and point. If the place is unfindable they will phone it for you. This is not the emergency line — that is 110.

If I leave something on a train in Japan, do I get it back?

Usually, and it startles people. Something left on a train is collected at the terminus and logged into the railway's database, so any staffed station on that network can search for it — not just the one you left from. Something left in a shop stays at that shop. Something handed to the police is held for a set period, months rather than days, before disposal.

Speed matters more than eloquence. Find a station office (駅事務室) or a lost-property counter, look for 忘れ物 (wasuremono) on the signage, and bring four facts: what, what colour, roughly when, which line. Bring your passport, because nothing is released without ID. For an insurance claim you want a 遺失届 (ishitsu-todoke), filed at any koban, keeping the reference number.

Someone just handed me their phone — what do I say?

It happens at every viewpoint, and the answer is two words: hai, ii desu yo. Take the phone with both hands, shoot three or four rather than one, and hold the screen out so they can check before walking off. If you would rather not, daijoubu desu with a small hand gesture is a complete and inoffensive refusal.

Going the other way, the sign worth memorising is 撮影禁止 (satsuei kinshi) — no photography. It appears inside temple halls, in shops, at some museum exhibits, and on the private lanes of Kyoto's Gion, where photographing geiko and maiko without permission is prohibited rather than frowned upon. When in doubt, ask first.

What usually goes wrong when asking for help?

The commonest failure is not linguistic. It is nodding. You catch three words, you say hai, the person leaves satisfied, and you are stranded with a third of a route. Repeat the word you did catch, put ne after it, and the exchange self-corrects.

The second is trusting the building number. Within a block, numbers do not run in walking order, which is why even locals finish the last stretch by landmark.

• Chotto… trailing off with a wince means no. Nobody will refuse outright.
• Wakarimasen is an honest answer, not a brush-off. Thank them and ask the next person.
• Ask for a landmark rather than a route — konbini no mae, eki no tonari. Landmarks survive a bad translation; turn-by-turn does not.

None of this needs much Japanese. It needs the willingness to say you did not understand, which is a different skill and a harder one. Everyone you stop will be more patient with a half-finished sentence than you expect, and none of them will remember it for as long as you will.